I Don't Like to Share
by hopefulfeathers
Summary: Of course Regina has been to fancy dinner parties, had to sit through and endure conversations upon conversations about work and politics and money. Yet, something about this specific charity dinner is different. And the young woman soon finds herself swept up in the eyes of two of the most unlikely of men. Who will she choose?


I Don't Like to Share

The clinking of glasses, the gentle patter and scrape of cutlery on delicate china, mixed with a harmonious melody of cello and violin fill the atmosphere with a sense of sophistication and elegance. She floats about the immense outdoor tent, flitting from one clique to another, offering various types of greetings, with the utmost formality that which a young woman of her age is expected.

Her silver dress, open at the back, is all the rage of the young women who stand at a distance, muttering to themselves words of envy and disdain for a person they hardly know. Her hair is as black as a raven's, and ripples down in a cascade of night over her shoulders and back and breasts. It shines under the thousands of fairy lights that adorn the posts and ceiling rods of the tent. Dark dark eyes, underneath delicately arched eyebrows, peer intensely yet warmly at whomever she may be speaking. Luscious deep rouge lips, a perfect juxtaposition to pale cheeks, have attracted those of any gentleman. But, they have yet to capture the right one.

She flits about the area with poise that of royalty, her head held high, her eyes delicately scrutinizing each person to whom she may grace her presence.

"Regina dear," the winsome Mary Margaret beckons, "Do meet the most eligible bachelor and billionaire, the most-"

"Christian Grey," the man interrupts, extending his hand quickly. Regina takes it into hers, slightly amused by his attempts at putting an end to her friend's frivolous introduction. But in his eyes, she can quite clearly see that he is indeed in no hurry. Intense grey pools pour into the chocolate of hers, reaching past the irises, past the nerves and muscles and bone, deep down into the very depths of her brain, into the very heart of her thoughts.

He's beautiful, this clean-shaven gentleman. Waves of copper curls, sharp jawline, perfectly sculpted lips, and deep dark grey eyes have Regina's heart stopping in her chest. Dressed in a crisp suit and tie, there's this air of mystery to him. It is an enigmatic vibe that seems to float about him, affecting her in ways that she'd rather dismiss. And before Regina can help it, her lips twitch into an involuntary smile.

"Regina Mills. It's a pleasure to meet you," she murmurs, noting how even after her spoken response, the young bachelor delays his release of her hand. This prompts a wanton feeling of flattery that shakes her like a leaf. Yes, he is captivating, oh so captivating and enchanting. It's an attraction she finds both frustrating and welcoming at the same time. It's all packed into one big conglomeration of incoherent emotion.

This is the effect he has on her, and only her. It's not the jittery feeling that prompts the rapid batting of eyelashes and hot flashes. It's not the kind that makes other women toss their hair and swing their hips in meager attempts to capture the man of their idealistic dreams and fantasies. This is much more profound. And so with a soft nod, Regina smiles shyly, glancing downward to where his hand had dropped. Her submissive-like demeanor does not go unnoticed by the carefully trained eye that is of Mr. Grey.

"So you are Cora's daughter, Cora Mills," Christian prompts, gazing intently at her.

"Not by choice," Regina answers curtly, a flash of disdain darting across her wary eyes. Again, this does not go unnoticed.

"I've heard she's one of the best lawyers in the country," he continues, promptly ignoring her expression, "It is very considerate of her daughter to have attended this, my, charity event."

"I know," Regina replies, flashing a small smirk, "It's rather drab, as most formal dinners are, but I suppose it's for the greater good…feeding the world's poor."

Christian smirks slightly at her boldness which is coated in a sugary layer of subtlety. "Oh Ms. Mills, I can assure you that things will most certainly become more interesting."

His smirk only grows as he leans close. A hand grabs her wrist in a sort of domineering yet arousing fashion that makes her heart flutter. His lips brush her ear, causing her to press her knees together even though whilst standing, and her own lower lip to slide between her teeth. "Laters, baby," he whispers. And Regina sucks in her breath. But with another polite nod, he is gone.

* * *

And so the dinner continues. After freshly baked salmon with lemon, parsley, and capers along with a warm baguette and a side of sautéed spinach and garlic, Regina finds herself pleasantly full, and converses now with a group of prominent socialites. She cannot help but laugh at Mary Margaret's exuberant demeanor and whimsical outlook on any matter discussed. She simply cannot see how the woman can be so positive, so carefree, so optimistic. But then again she is Mary Margaret, Miss Goody Two-Shoes and everyone's best friend. And Regina is Regina, the one born of the shadows, melodramatically speaking. But it's true. However she wishes to not dwell upon such notions. Not right now.

It's about nine thirty when Regina finds herself walking towards the cocktail station. Mr. Grey has disappeared, or so it seems. However for some reason she finds herself gazing around the tent, hoping to catch yet another glimpse of the enigmatic man they call CEO. Lost in a world of her thoughts, Regina just barely misses the sharp tug on the tail of her gown. And she stumbles backward, knocking into an individual behind her.

"Apologies milady," a thick English accent calls, "I did not see you there." With a frown, Regina turns slowly to meet bright blue eyes and a kind face hidden slightly under some scruff and a crop of dirty blonde locks that flop parted to each side. His smile is infectious, his face radiating warmth and light and hope. Regina finds it to even be addictive. All around him the air is aglow with a comforting vibe, a welcoming vibe. It is one so different from what she is used to, so different from the man before. She gazes at him in wonder, in a sort of fascination. Yet Regina is quick to mask her looks with a critical lift of her brow. He is quite appealing in a suit and bow tie. However she could quite easily picture him dressed in jeans and a hoodie. It seems as if it would be more of his style.

"You're lucky I'm not fond of this dress," she says, yanking the frayed end of her gown from underneath the tip of his shoe.

"I quite like you in it though," the man states, shrugging nonchalantly, "It compliments your lips nicely."

Regina's eyes narrow. Yet she can't help the twitch of her lips as she fights to hold back a smile. "Are you flirting with me?", she asks with a tilt of her head.

"I wouldn't dream of it," the man retorts with a smirk and shake of his head. "Ms. Mills."

"So you know who I am," Regina says, straightening herself. She surprisingly enjoys this pointless banter.

"Your reputation as Cora Mill's daughter precedes you," the man replies with another dazzling smile. It is one that catches Regina completely off guard.

"I didn't catch your name."

"Robin Locksley," the man says, extending his right hand. Regina locks hers with his in a firm handshake. She finds his hand rough and calloused. Yet, it's somewhat comforting.

"The thief," Regina remarks, raising her brows as she recalls the countless news headlines of the past, stating the many reckless robberies that have been committed.

"Oh no, not a thief," Robin is quick to correct, "I've put those days behind me."

"Meaning?"

"I own my own company now, milady. I am actually one of the main distributors of food overseas into parts of South America and Africa. I work closely in partnership with Mr. Christian Grey."

"Oh," Regina replies simply, nodding of her head at this intriguing new piece of information. Idly she wonders just how the partnership works. The two are just so…different. And for some reason, this man too emits a sort of attraction, a magnetic force that draws Regina close. Perhaps it's his welcoming personality, his infectious smile. And those eyes, those eyes that hold the sea in all its beauty. Regina finds she could get lost in them for days and not return. Such a different set of eyes from those that she'd looked upon previously. Cool, ambiguous grey versus benevolent blue will be her undoing, as she finds herself caught between the two.

"That's quite a switch you have made," Regina further comments, a hint of admiration in her voice. "How honorable of you."

"It was all for my boy," the man replies with a soft and gentle smile.

"Your boy?"

"Roland. He is four years just about a week ago today in fact." His face seems to alight with adoration at the mentioning of his beloved son. It warms Regina's heart in a way she is not familiar.

"I see," Regina responds with a short nod of her head, wary of showing any emotion beyond her attempts at feigning disinterest. "Excuse me please." And with that, she ducks her head and rushes towards the cocktails.

* * *

"Oh you must! You must!", Mary Margaret pleads, pulling a most unenthusiastic Regina towards the stage at the front of the tent. It has been about a half hour without much luck at interacting once more with her two intriguing suitors. And quite honestly, Regina is exhausted and overwhelmed.

"It's for charity!", Mary Margaret exclaims. She pushes Regina up the stairs and onto the stage, barely allowing the other woman to maintain her footing so as not to fall before the hundreds of other people, men, who watch just as eagerly. With a forced smile, she struts across the stage to where about a dozen other women stand shoulder to shoulder facing the audience.

"Bitch," Regina hisses in the ear of Mary Margaret, who stands by to her right, nearly exploding with excitement, "I will not be put on display like-"

"Ladies and gentlemen!", the master of ceremonies announces a tad to cheerfully, "It is time for the First Dance Auction! Bid your highest on each of these lovely women here and you will win a first dance with the woman of your choice-"

"How demoralizing," Regina grits under her breath.

"Just think of the charity," Mary Margaret whispers excitedly, "It's not that bad."

"-All proceeds will go to charity," the man finishes, in accordance to Mary Margaret's comment. And with that, the auction is off. Regina inwardly cringes at the false, corny descriptions of each woman before her as ogling men happily place their bids. It isn't long before Mary Margaret is "sold" to a blonde haired, brown eyed clean-shaven man. Regina watches as her friend practically skips off the stage.

At last the auctioneer announces her name, and Regina has to endure to a long list of skills and talents she doesn't even possess. Such lengths people, men in particular, are willing to go in order to have so-called fun.

"Do we have any takers?", the man calls after finishing his ramble. He gazes intently at the crowd whilst Regina does nothing but gaze intently at the floor.

"Ten thousand dollars!", a voice clear as day rings out from the audience below. And it's quite enough to make Regina's blood run cold. She snaps her head up immediately, stomach clenching as she is most certain she is about to puke.

Sure enough, there he is, that Mr. Grey. He emerges from the crowd and steps forward confidently towards the stage. His tie has been removed, leaving two buttons undone at the top of his crisp clean shirt. Regina's mouth runs dry.

"This can't be happening," she murmurs.

"Ten thousand for our beautiful Ms. Mills here," the auctioneer announces, "Any other takers?" There is a silence. And just when Regina is most certain that Mr. Grey has won, another distinctive voice rings out among the crowd.

"Twelve thousand dollars!"

Regina's eyes bulge as lo and behold, suitor Number Two steps forward, weaving in and out of the throng of people, making his way towards the stage. She watches with her heart in her throat as Mr. Grey suddenly turns to the approaching Mr. Locksley, staring him down as if the man is nothing but a meal. However the Brit, completely unfazed, proceeds forward confidently, and comes to stand next to Christian. Regina's eyes dart back and forth between the two in a subtle plea to have one of them end this public embarrassment.

"Twelve thousand dollars!", the auctioneer repeats.

"Twenty thousand!", Christian shouts.

"Fifty thousand!", Robin calls fervently. There is silence. And a trace of a smile appears on Regina's lips as she succumbs to her fate being swept into a pool of crystal blue…

"One hundred thousand!"

"One hundred thousand! Sold! Sold to Mr. Christian Grey!"

* * *

He glides effortlessly across the dance floor like a spirit, a ghost. Elegant and poised, he takes charge of the dance, swirling Regina gracefully in his arms. And she is amazed. However she would expect nothing less from the sophisticated billionaire bachelor.

"You're a very good dancer," Christian compliments, gazing intently into the chocolate of Regina's eyes.

"Thank you," Regina responds with a soft smirk. "Well you can thank my mother for that," she adds with a slight scoff. However her remark doesn't have the intended effect when suddenly a flash of something looking much like sorrow or possibly even hurt touches the man's features for but a moment before disappearing. It intrigues Regina all the more, and she gazes at him curiously, wondering what it could possibly mean. However she decides wisely against touching upon the topic.

"So you seemed to have won that bid quite easily," Regina remarks, steering the conversation away from obviously unhappy sentiments, "Are you always so frivolous with your money?"

Christian laughs, shaking his head. He spins Regina once more. "I won that bid simply because I can. I'm used to getting what I want." He brings her down for a swift dip.

"And it's me that you want," Regina clarifies as she rises back up into his arms and begins to glide once more, keeping perfect time with both that of the beat and the movement of her partner. "What about me could possibly elicit such a dramatic gesture from you?"

"Oh everything," Christian replies with a cryptic sparkle in his eye. He stares down at her once more; intense grey on chocolate. "I want to know more about you."

"There's not much to know about me," Regina states in a small voice, a slight blush creeping to her cheeks.

"Oh there must be something," Christian prods, "Otherwise, I, and most certainly Mr. Locksley, wouldn't be interested." He says the other man's name with almost a degree of contempt to his voice. It almost infuriates her.

"What do you have against Mr. Locksley?", she asks, rolling her eyes.

Christian's eyes narrow and he halts. "See if you were mine, you'd be over my knee right about now."

Regina's eyes widen and her heart pounds. "What? Why?"

"Because you just rolled your eyes."

"Don't be absurd." A small devious smile forms on Christian's lips. It catches Regina, once more, completely off guard. She narrows her eyes back at him, staring defiantly.

"Am I supposed to be intimidated by you?", she asks, her voice turning sickly sweet.

"Oh well you should be," Christian answers in a matched tone.

Regina shakes her head, this time, subconsciously restraining herself from rolling her eyes once more. The tone of his voice reminded Regina much of her mother. And the thought gives her a shiver, a shiver that which she'd rather not experience again. Yet at the same time, dare she say, coming from this particular man, it was terribly arousing.

* * *

They continue to dance. And as she finds herself floating about the dance floor, Regina can't help but feel that familiar magnetic pull once more, just as she did with Robin. An electric current runs between the limited space between her and the mysterious Christian Grey. They keep in perfect time to the music, their steps in perfect synchronization, their eyes locked in a perfectly addictive gaze. And slowly, she loses herself in the grey just as she so easily would in the blue. And it confuses her greatly.

The two twirl about the space, lost in their own little world, wrapped up in nothing but each other until suddenly there's another yank at the end of Regina's gown. And she stumbles to the side. She slips on her heels until strong arms catch her swiftly, holding her tightly against a hard chest. Regina can just feel the smooth muscles ripple underneath his thin dress shirt. Her breath quickens as the realization dawns. He is holding her, actually holding her. Timidly, Regina peers up at him as he gazes down at her, eyebrows furrowed with worry.

"Are you all right?", Christian asks, voice heavy with concern.

"I'm fine," Regina mumbles. Slowly, he puts her back on her feet, but doesn't release his hold. Instead, a hand reaches up and fingers grace her cheek. Underneath, soft skin prickles at the sensation. And Regina's eyes flutter closed on instinct as she leans eagerly into his touch. She doesn't even realize her breath is held as her heart pounds away against her chest.

"Breathe, Regina," Christian coaxes, her name rolling off his tongue in a way that becomes like music to her ears. Regina opens her eyes to still find grey eyes peer back at her, and she smiles gently.

"That gown is a real hazard," Christian scolds gently with a shake of his head. Regina gulps, simply nodding numbly. She is woefully captured in his net as she finds herself practically melting in his arms.

"May I have the honor?", a voice interrupts suddenly, startling the couple. Regina turns with a slight frown to face the man whose face radiates with kindness and compassion. The light of his smile reaches her, wrapping its tendrils around her body, enveloping her in warmth like a hug. And instantly she returns that same bright smile. Everything just seems to come so easily with this man.

"No, you may not. I've-", Christian begins. However, Regina interrupts, moving out of the man's arms.

"Of course," she says, taking Robin's hand with a slight curtsy. She is just about to follow him further onto the dance floor, away from Christian, when suddenly there's that firm tug at her wrist for the second time this night. She halts. And cool lips brush against her ear once more. In this moment, her heart takes to the sky.

"I don't like to share, Ms. Mills," he growls lowly, "Remember that."


End file.
